


the sight in the darkness

by yeswayappianway



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Emelan AU, Family, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: “I’m a mage. Certain things in the world have magic in them, and some people have a connection to one specific kind of that magic,” Bruce said. “We call that ambient magic, and I think you have it, just like I do. My specialty is seeing things, including magic. I saw something the night before. But I wasn’t sure where I was seeing the magic from. It was very faint. I decided to come back again, and I realized it was you,” Bruce said. His face was serious again.---A Circle of Magic AU in which Bruce finds kids with ambient magic and takes them in.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18
Collections: Lower Your Damn Standards: week 4: off-brand/id-work





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this was originally something i was planning on not ever writing at all, just kicking around ideas for, and then this was something that i wanted to write in a very specific way, and _then_ i gave up on both of those and decided to post it as a wip for lower your damn standards! there is no plot here, and i don't know when i'll write more, but for now, enjoy what's here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how Dick comes to live with Bruce at the Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note: the first scene in this chapter is dick's parents dying. it's not graphic or really explicitly depicted, but it does happen on screen (the same way it does in canon)

Something was wrong, Dick thought frantically. He couldn’t see anything different about the trapeze, and the sounds of his parents swinging on the ropes seemed normal, but he could _feel_ something off. He crouched on the platform, automatically going through the motions of the routine, but his eyes darted around, looking for anything that might be the cause of his rising panic. Even the air rushing past his face felt worried, circling around—there it was! The wind whistled through one of the ropes differently than the other. Dick lurched to his feet, reaching a hand out, mouth open to yell while his mother stretched out her own hands toward his father. For one brief second, Dick saw her catch him as she had a hundred times before, and thought, _everything will be alright_.

Then he heard the snap of the rope, and felt the air rush into the place of the broken rope, and Dick couldn’t tell what he was hearing, whether it was himself screaming or his parents or the audience. He rocked forward, trying fruitlessly to catch them, and something pushed him back onto the platform. Dick didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at the ground.

It was a long time before he could move.

\---

“Hello,” a deep voice said. Dick didn’t look up. Someone sat beside him.

“I’m sorry,” the voice continued. “I know you probably won’t want to talk to anyone, but I don’t think you want to be alone, either.”

Dick listlessly raised his head just enough to see a man in dark trousers and a loose dark overrobe. He was unfamiliar, and Dick knew he should respond but he couldn't manage anything beyond dull thoughtless pain.

The man didn’t seem to be waiting for him to say anything. “I lost my parents when I was ten,” he said, still in that deep quiet voice. It felt like it was sinking into Dick’s skin. “I won’t tell you that I know exactly what you’re feeling, but I have a better idea than most people.” There was quiet for a moment. Very hesitantly, the man reached a hand toward Dick. He didn’t move. It didn’t matter if the man touched him or not. It wouldn’t fix anything. The man’s hand rested on Dick’s back for a moment, very lightly rubbing a circle over his shoulder blades. Dick took a deep breath.

“I’m going to go talk to the captain of the Watch, but I won’t go far. If you need anything, you can yell for me. I’m Bruce,” he said. His hand left Dick’s back, and the man—Bruce—stood up. Dick watched him go.

\---

“What in the Firesword’s name are you trying to do here, Bruce?”

“Jim, trust me.”

“No, you’re gonna have to give me more than that. Just because you inherited more money than the king of Sotat—”

“The boy has magic. I doubt he knows anything about it, but the Manor is the best place for him. I can help him.”

“Bruce— I see what you’re saying, but you’ve barely gotten your own issues under contro—”

“My issues are plenty under control, Jim, and what’s the other option? You think some well-meaning merchant family would take him?”

“What about one of the Living Circles? Stone Circle, or--”

“They’re already overloaded, and he needs more attention than they could give him. Please, Jim. It will be official, I’ll talk to the magistrate.”

“Alright. Alright, fine. We’ll do it your way. But don’t you think he’d rather stay with the troupe? This was his home, as far as I can tell.”

“That’s exactly why I think he won’t want to stay now.”

\---

“Welcome home, Master Bruce, Master Richard,” the old man said.

“It’s Dick,” Dick interrupted. The old man just nodded.

“Master Dick, then. Good to meet you,” he said. “Would you like something warm to drink? Tea?”

Dick nodded. It felt like he was in a dream, unfamiliar places and people acting like he should know them when he’d never seen them before, feeling like he was simultaneously moving faster than humanly possible and swimming through molasses. He was going along with it.

“Dick,” Bruce said, kneeling down. “Dick, this is Alfred. He— he lives with me,” Bruce glanced up at the old man.

“Nice to meet you, Alfred,” Dick said. It was what you were supposed to say when you met a new person. Dick wasn’t capable of much beyond what he was supposed to do right now. So far, he had been managing.

Alfred smiled, though, and Dick felt a little flicker of feeling in his chest when Alfred smiled warmly down at him. It was gone soon enough, but it was something. He followed Alfred further into the house, Bruce trailing behind the two of them.

Dick thought they passed a few doorways before reaching the kitchen, but it was dark in here and he couldn’t be bothered to look. The kitchen was lit from the fire in the hearth, as well as several large windows with light cloth drifting in them. There was already a kettle on the hearth, and Alfred immediately took it off and poured water into three cups already sitting on the wooden table. Bruce guided Dick to one of the stools sitting by the table, and Dick went. He stared sightlessly ahead until someone gently set one of the cups in front of him.

“Careful, Master Dick,” Alfred said quietly. “It’s hot.” Dick curled his hands around the heavy ceramic cup anyway. The warmth made him feel—more like a person again. It was little, but it was something. The scent of the tea snuck into his nose. Dick couldn’t identify what it smelled like, but it was good. Something warm and spicy. He raised the cup to his lips and took a very small sip.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, looking up at Alfred. Alfred and Bruce were watching him, he realized.

“Of course,” Alfred said, giving him another of his smiles. Between the smile and the tea, Dick felt like he was starting to wake up for the first time since his parents—

Dick took another sip of tea.

\---

There was a knock on the door of the small bedroom Dick was staying in. It opened slightly, and Bruce’s head peered around. It was almost funny. Bruce was so large, but he looked so small like that. Dick wanted to laugh. He couldn’t.

“Dick?” Bruce said.

“Hi,” Dick said from. He didn’t move from where he was laying on the bed. If he laid like this, he could see out the window up to the sky. Right now, he was watching a bird circle lazily in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Everything okay?” Bruce asked. He entered the room fully, but he stayed standing in the middle of the room.

“Why am I here?” Dick asked. The bird flew out of sight, so Dick turned his head so he could see Bruce better.

Bruce looked worried. “What do you mean? Would you rather be somewhere else?”

Dick lifted his shoulders slightly, the best shrug he could manage right now. “No,” he said dully. He didn’t want anything in particular. He didn’t really want to talk either, but he’d started this. “Why… did you take me in?” The question had been circling around his head for days.

Walking toward the bed, Bruce asked, “Can I sit down?”

Dick nodded once, and went back to staring up at the sky.

“There are a few reasons I took you in, Dick,” Bruce said. He had a good, solid voice. It made Dick think of stone foundations. Dick had never lived somewhere with stone foundations before, but after everything that had happened in the last month, it was a good thought. “One is what I told you that night. I remember how it felt when my parents died. Captain Gordon and Alfred were there for me, and I wanted to be there for you. I thought it would be better for you to have a place where you didn’t have to deal with many other children, like you would at one of the Living Circle temples. But,” Bruce hesitated. “There was another reason as well. I… Dick, do you know if either of your parents had magic?”

That was interesting enough that Dick looked at Bruce again. “No,” he said. “No, and my parents had me tested when we passed through…” Dick struggled to remember when he had gone before the magicseer. “Dancruan? It was a year ago. Maybe two.”

Bruce nodded. “Do you know anything about magic?”

Dick shook his head.

“Well, when most people think of magic, they think of those mages who study for many years and then learn to cast spells. That’s the kind of magic most magicseers look for. We call it academic magic,” Bruce explained.

“We?” Dick asked.

“Yes,” Bruce said, and one corner of his mouth lifted into a very small smile. “I’m a mage, Dick. I can use that kind of magic, the kind that comes from learning. But I also have a different kind of magic.”

Dick didn’t say anything. He kept looking at Bruce, though.

“Certain things in the world have magic in them, and some people have a connection to one specific kind of that magic,” Bruce said. He reached one hand out toward Dick and gently touched Dick’s hand. “We call that ambient magic, and I think you have it, just like I do.”

Dick was quiet. He didn’t know how to feel about this idea. “How?” he finally asked.

“My specialty is seeing things, including magic. I saw your performance the night before— the night before. But I wasn’t sure where I was seeing the magic from. It was very faint. I decided to come back again, and I realized it was you,” Bruce said. His face was serious again.

“But,” Dick started. It was— “But if I have magic, why—” his voice broke. He’d spent so long feeling like nothing was touching him, and now, all of a sudden, it was like a stone around him had broken and it was all rushing in at once. “If I have magic, could I have saved them?” he whispered. His face was wet. Dick realized he was crying.

Bruce said, “No, sweetheart, no,” and leaned toward him. Dick threw himself at Bruce. Bruce caught him and held him as tears coursed down his face.

They stayed like that for a long time.

\---

Dick eyed the candle skeptically. “What if I can’t do it?” he asked.

Bruce shrugged. “Then you can’t do it.”

Dick took a deep breath.

“Are you ready to try?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, determined.

Bruce nodded. “Alright. Then breathe in… hold… breathe out… Keep counting to sevens,” he said, and Dick tried to concentrate on the count. 

Finally, he opened his eyes, breathing slow. The candle burned in front of him. There were other things around him, Bruce was there somewhere, but Dick didn’t notice. He felt the warm air moving slowly past his face, and he thought of the way it felt sometimes when he was in the air, like the wind was helping him along.

_Hello_ , he thought. _Can you help me with something? I’d really like that candle to go out. Can you do that?_

Somehow, Dick felt—an answer. There were no words or even pictures, but he knew the wind had heard him.

The candle winked out.

“I—” he whispered, staring at the candle. “I did it.” Dick looked up at where Bruce sat across the circle, an unfamiliar expression on his face.

“You did,” Bruce said, warmer than Dick had ever heard him. “I’m proud of you.”

A breeze ruffled Dick’s hair, and Dick, for the first time in months, smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how Jason decides to stay at the Manor

Jason had been planning to run. He’d figured it all out, exactly how to get out of the house so that he could swing by the kitchen and one of his stashes, grab his kit, and be far enough away that no one could reasonably catch him by the time they’d realized he was gone. It would have been—well, not easy, but he could have done it.

And then Alfred had to go and ruin it all by making bread.

The smell had caught Jason’s attention as he’d been checking his room one last time for anything useful. It couldn’t hurt, he’d thought, to go down to the kitchen and see what was making that delicious smell. Maybe he could time it right so he could grab it on the way out. Instead, he’d still been a whole length away from the door to the kitchen when Alfred had said, “Would you like to help?”

Jason had frozen, but not a moment later, Alfred’s head had been poking around the side of the doorway, one eyebrow raised at him. Jason had followed him in, and now here they were, hours later, with Jason fairly covered in flour and a sense of warm, fierce satisfaction somewhere in his chest.

“Alfred, have you seen—” Bruce stopped in the doorway, his mouth open. Jason couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen him so completely flummoxed. It was pretty funny, honestly. All thoughts of laughter were driven from his head by Bruce’s next words, though.

“Jason, did you know you had magic?”

\---

It hadn’t been easy for Jason to accept. It was nonsense, obviously. He was just a street kid, and people with magic didn’t end up running and hiding in back alleys and empty squats. Except… Bruce was right. Sure, there had been plenty of times that Jason had gone hungry, but when he found food, he stretched it longer than it really should have lasted, and he remembered when his mom’d still been alive, Jason had made them food, and she’d always felt better after that. He’d thought it was just that she remembered to eat, but now he wondered if it had been something more.

“Did you know?” Bruce asked Alfred. Alfred shook his head, but he looked at Jason. Jason almost had to look away at how proud he looked. What was he looking like that at _Jason_ for, anyway?

“I did not, but I had my suspicions, and I was proven quite correct,” Alfred said, and even Jason could tell he was pleased. He glanced at the window. “Master Jason, I believe the bread will be done baking now. Could you take it out?”

“It doesn’t feel done,” Jason said, without thinking. Then his eyes snapped up to meet Alfred’s.

Alfred just smiled. “You know best. Take it out when you feel it is ready.”

Jason looked at them, dismayed. “How am I s’posed to know? I’ve never baked bread before!”

“I believe Master Bruce can help you with that.”

“I thought you said he was terrible in the kitchen.”

“I’m right here,” Bruce complained, but the corner of his mouth was turned up. “But luckily, I’m not terrible with magic. If you can reach down into your connection—”

Jason snorted. He couldn’t help it. “My connection with the _bread_?”

“Well, not exactly, but you can think of it that way if you want,” Bruce offered. “It’s your connection to magic. Magic runs through everything, it’s just that some people can feel it more strongly in some things than others. If you can focus on the connection within yourself, you can feel what it’s drawn to around you.”

It sounded like a lot of head-in-the-clouds temple nonsense to Jason, but it couldn’t hurt to try. “Alright, so how do I do that?”

Bruce leaned toward him from across the table. “Eventually, I’ll teach you how to find it more efficiently, but for now, just close your eyes and think about the bread. Think about how it felt while you were making it,” and Bruce kept talking, but Jason was already starting to get lost in his head.

Or maybe it wasn’t lost, after all. Jason thought of the way he felt when he was cooking, how easy it was to get swept away from his life, and how clear everything felt. He’d cooked a lot for his mom, and it hadn’t been grand, but he’d managed meals on his own for a good while, too. Today, kneading the bread, feeling it under his hands, Jason had felt centered for the first time since he’d come to the Manor. It didn’t feel like everything was going to get pulled out from under him here in the kitchen, with the smell of herbs and oil in his nose and the warm soft crackle of the fire.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, opening his eyes and darting over to the hearth. “It’s done!”

\---

“Hi, Jason, good to finally meet you.”

Jason had heard a lot about Dick Grayson in the months he’d been at the Manor, but somehow none of it had covered how sneaky he was. He’d been alone, Jason would have sworn it, but there was Dick Grayson, hovering over his shoulder.

“Hi,” Jason muttered.

“What are you reading?” he asked, peering down at the book in Jason’s lap. Jason slammed it shut. Dick’s smile twitched, but didn’t leave his face. “Fair enough. Do you want me to leave you alone to read?”

Jason raised his eyebrows at him. Of course he did. What did he want with famous Dick Grayson, who Bruce never shut up about but who’d run off to Emelan and never looked back. Until now.

Dick sighed. “Okay, sorry I bothered you. I’ll be around for a few days at least. I’d love to talk, so maybe sometime when you’re not busy you could come find me?” He looked genuine, and Jason felt a little pang of guilt. He ignored it.

“Sure.”

\---

The tile of the roof was warm against Jason’s back, and beside him, Dick sighed happily. “I love it up here. Best part of the whole house.”

Jason sat up. “No it isn’t!”

Dick looked over at him. “Why, what’s your favorite? The study?”

Jason stared. He’d thought it was obvious. “The kitchen.”

Dick’s face flushed a little. “Oh, I… yeah, okay, I guess I should have seen that one coming.”

Flopping back down, Jason said, magnanimously, “This is pretty good, too, though.”

“I used to come up here all the time,” Dick said. His words were soft and lazy, floating by like the clouds overhead. “Sometimes I just needed to be alone, you know?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I thought you might.” There was no judgment in Dick’s voice. “I wanted to make sure I showed you while I was here. Bruce and Alfred are great, but it’s nice to have a place just for you.”

“If it’s…” Jason swallowed. “If it’s just for you, why did you show me?” He looked over at Dick, who seemed to be smiling again.

“It felt like the right thing to do for my brother,” he said. “Besides, I’m not using it anymore, and it would be a shame if no one were.”

Jason’s chest got that warm, focused feeling he usually only felt when he was meditating or helping Alfred cook. “Thanks, Dick.”

“Any time,” Dick said, and then waved a hand. A breeze ruffled through Jason’s hair, flopping it into his eyes. He yelped, and Dick laughed, and Jason gave up and laughed along with him, his head resting against the roof as they looked up into the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how Tim settles in at the manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is dedicated entirely to [Talynvega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talynvega/pseuds/Talynvega), who left me a lovely comment on the existing chapters that made me remember i actually do have notes about the other batkids and how they fit into this au.

There are voices. Tim can't tell at first if they're coming from down the hall or below the floor, but he can hear them. It's the first thing he's heard in—so long he doesn't know how to count it anymore. All he can keep track of is the faintly flickering light in the glass bauble. It had been his father's. His father is dead. So is his mother. Tim supposes that makes the bauble his now. The light dims at that.

"Are you sure?" he hears one of the voices say. It's closer now. Tim thinks he should be worried, but he can't muster the energy now. If it's someone looking for him for some malicious reason, at least he'll probably be able to breathe fresh air before they kill him.

Another voice responds, low enough that Tim can't make out the words, but he can hear footsteps. They're definitely walking toward him, and Tim stares at the light, willing it to stay up. 

A moment later, there's a loud thud, and suddenly, light rushes in. Tim's eyes water and he has to screw them shut. It still hurts. He manages to make out the shape of two men before he faints.

\---

It's funny, Tim has seen the Manor many times before. He lives—well. His parents used to live nearby, and Tim had always been a little fascinated by the big house with its walls of greenery and the warm tiled roof visible even beyond the hedges. And now here he is, living in it.

Tim is still a little awed by everything, and he's so far been dealing with it by hiding in the room they've let him stay in. It's not a fancy room, not even as well-decorated as Tim's old room back with his parents, and certainly nothing compared to the quarters they'd stayed in when his parents took Tim along to Kugisko or Hajra or Summersea. It's bright, though, with a big window and a lamp that Tim was told he could always ask for more oil for. He's not sure if he likes the concession, but he can't deny that the room feels safe in a way that calms something deep inside Tim.

"Hey," says a voice that Tim doesn't recognize at all. Tim doesn't jump, because Tim has been with his parents while they met with emperors and queens and the importance of keeping calm was drilled into him at a young age.

The person at the door is a man, or maybe a boy—it's hard to tell. He's older than Tim and younger than Bruce. He's wearing dark, rough clothes, more like what Tim is used to seeing on workers down by the docks than here in the Manor.

"Hi," Tim says.

"You must be Tim, right? I'm Jason," apparently-Jason says, looking around the room. "Alfred sent me up here to tell you it's time for midday. He even made tea."

Tim stands up and smooths his hands over his tunic for something to do. "Thanks," he offers, unsure what else to say.

Jason just nods. "You should get some decorations. Bruce won't mind if you make the room your own. Alfred will only care if you don't keep it tidy."

What would Tim even decorate with? He doesn't own anything. Well. He supposes that legally, he owns all the things his parents left behind when they died, but for a variety of reasons, Tim doesn't have any interest in bringing them here. It's only when there's quiet for a moment that Tim realizes Jason is still waiting for an answer. "I don't know what I'd decorate with."

"Do you want to go to the market tomorrow? I can go with you if you want. I'm sure we can find you something to cheer this up," Jason says, waving his hand around as if to encompass the whole room.

"That… would be nice." Tim isn't sure if it will be, really, but it can't hurt to go outside and do something different.

\---

"Tim," Bruce says one evening after supper. "When we found you, you had this with you." He holds out a hand with a small glass orb. Tim recognizes it as the bauble he'd kept with him in the dark.

Tim nods.

"Do you remember how it was glowing then?" Bruce asks. His face is neutral—not uncomfortable or pressuring, but matter-of-fact.

"Yes," says Tim, unsure where Bruce is going with this.

"Do you think you could make it glow again?"

Does he… Well. Tim hadn't let him think about that before, about what it meant that the glass had glowed for him, that it had dimmed and flickered when he'd lost control. He knows it's magic, but he had never thought he had magic, so in the face of such a contradiction on top of everything else that has happened to Tim lately, he'd simply chosen to ignore it. It seems that he won't be able to do that any longer.

"I could try?" Tim offers.

Bruce tosses him the glass lightly. Tim nearly drops it. "Give it a try," Bruce says, and he does smile then, small and a little lopsided. It's nothing like how he smiles in public, and it makes something relax in Tim's head.

Now that he's looking at it in the light, Tim can see that there's swirls of different shades of glass within the smooth exterior. It's cool in his hand, but he remembers how it had looked almost like a candle flame in the dark, and he imagines it warm and living in his hand. The glow appears almost imperceptibly at first and then grows until Tim can see it casting shadows against his hand.

When he looks up at Bruce, Tim can feel himself grinning for the first time in weeks.

\---

Tim has never given any thought to how glass is made. Now that he knows his magic runs through it, he's been examining all kinds of new glass—stained, rough, sea-weathered, thin and think and colored and warped. But today, Alfred has taken him to a workshop in the city to see a glassblower at work.

It's the most fascinating thing Tim has ever seen. When he was younger, he would stare at the fire for long stretches, entranced by the way it danced and entwined with itself. When he was older, he'd once watched a storm form over the sea as they sailed back to Ninver, and it had given him the same feeling—something so alive and so untameable that Tim felt like he could slip into it if he watched long enough. Seeing this woman blow hot glass, the almost liquid glowing with the heat as she steadily twists it around a long metal rod, it feels like seeing someone creating and controlling their own little storm.

"Can I learn how to do that?" Tim asks breathlessly, and Alfred smiles and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"That's precisely what we're here for, Master Timothy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think tim can also see and hear through glass, but i can't decide if it's scrying or catching echoes of what's been seen/heard by the glass.
> 
> as before, no promises that i'll actually write any more of this, but i do, as i said, have notes about the various batkids in this verse, so if there's someone you really wanna see, you can leave me a comment and i might write it


End file.
